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A woman sitting in an old house herself,
counting paper clips.

Every day, was a creaking workday
that reminded her addiction was in freedom—
meanings of being young, being old,
being in love with the back then.

She’s not a fan of
not being a fan of new movies.
But who can blame her
for blaming herself?

A helicopter that flies
over the barren desert land to the hospital,
where young boys crash motorcycles
and old men remember their dead.

A wall of silence no longer there
signifies hatred
now bungled within today.

Then you see the age
when television is history—
not a history channel
beyond Hegelians trying to memorize
systems to perfection.

Inside lost dreams of charities
that lost funding—unserviceable minds
that lurk in moons
trying to be seen without desperation.

Desperate to no longer be desperate
with sly strokes of sublimation meeting
meaning that doesn’t understand
yet works very hard to know better—
knows nothing more
than culminated condensation
dripping toward a small valley to move down.

Or an activity to sign up for
on a schedule at your community center.

Bingo! said the American,
afraid of being themselves
and longs for Paris—
mugged on a street
with their granddaughter watching,
when cops sprang from the doors—
nobody was left to watch.

—An emotional angst to pull back,
a wish for love in pure space-time.

An evangelist to tell you what to do,
one that is just spiritual
with the same frame.

I don’t wish for you to drag your breakfast into dinner,
or scream water in a lonely sea,
where all that is left to do
is doing nothing, nothing—

Being distant from trees,
closer to the bunker.

It’s hard to go easy
and easier to run,
sweeter to give it all away
and uglier to be unforgiven by givers.

These spirits are also amusement parks
who don’t care for safety.

If you expect them to wonder,
they force you to stare at our sun.

If you try to stop,
they slowly guide you back without knowledge.

Then one day
you’re sitting in a basement
wondering where all time went,

How your body turned—
and now all you see
is your dead uncle in the mirror.
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